Author's Note: I was dragged into this because my eight-year-old daughter started watching this show on Netflix. At first, I listened to it from another room. Then I started watching my two-year-old son punch the air whenever Chat yelled Claws Out! Soon, I found myself standing near the sofa for minutes at a time, and now, at long last, I'm watching entire episodes late at night on my phone after all three of my kids are asleep. I'd be embarrassed about it, but why?

So here's the thing about this story. While I was watching the Christmas Special with my girl, I started telling her about how close Adrien was to becoming a villain himself. She mentioned that he needed his mother (because she's sweet like that). When I pointed out that his mother was absent, she said that it didn't have to be his real mother - just someone needed to stand in and be one. "But what about Ladybug or Marinette?" No, she answered. It had to be someone older - a Mother.

I asked her more questions - she started giving me extremely sophisticated answers. I got out a notebook. I asked about her mother figure - what did she look like. What would she do if she found Adrien here in the courtyard? Should she know his secret? My girl recaptured the first bit of the Christmas special and then went on with her own story. I jotted down what she said and typed it up after she went to bed. The words are mine, but the idea for this story is completely hers. It may not be finished - she may lose her interest in deciding how she wants it to go before it truly ends, but I loved it enough that I wanted to put it out there. I will keep asking her questions and typing her answers. What do you think?

Fight Like This

"He's not coming, is he?" He asked, unsuccessfully keeping his tone neutral. He knew he shouldn't be disappointed, that he shouldn't have had the expectation in the first place. But it was Christmas Eve.

"Maybe give him a few more minutes?" Nathalie suggested, her tone and posture perfectly neutral. Sometimes Adrien wondered if she weren't actually a sophisticated robot. He sniffled, swallowing hard, and let the ornament in his hand droop, thinking momentarily of just sitting down right there on the floor as if he were five. Here he was, putting in all the effort when he felt horrible, to give his father some pretense of a family, and he wasn't there. Again.

"Forget it," he muttered, shivering at the chill his bodyguard let in as he opened the door. "I'll be in my room."

A meaty hand on his shoulder paused him, a purple and gold gift appearing under his gaze. He accepted it with an automatic thanks before continuing up the stairs. He dropped the gift unceremoniously on his bedspread before collapsing onto it himself, gasping a bit when the bed didn't feel quite as soft as he thought it should, curling up against the ache in his joints. He'd woken up cold, dizzy, sore, and inexplicably sad that morning, but he'd been ignoring it all day as he did his best to put together Christmas for his father. If anyone had noticed him being more forcefully festive than usual, it hadn't been mentioned. Not that it had mattered.

"Adrien?" His name came hesitantly and quietly, a whirring near his ear. He closed his eyes, burying his face in his pillow. Usually when his kwami tried to comfort him, it ended in an insult or a less than subtle hint for cheese. And he knew he'd already supplied him with more than enough disgusting Camembert to last him through New Year's Eve. Best to not let him start. He didn't want to snap at him; he'd technically done nothing to deserve it.

"He's just thinking of himself," he said, without preamble, melding his disappointment into the protectiveness of anger. "When is this day going to be over? Christmas is the worst." The tiny black spirit who shared his life hovered sympathetically near him, for once keeping his mouth shut. He looked on Adrien with pity, turning his blood cold. He was done. Done with waiting. Done with feeling like this. Just done.

"If he's not coming," Adrien said, sitting up with difficulty, taking several seconds to let his vision clear before looking at the snow falling out his window. "Then let's go out."

"No, Adrien," Plagg protested so quickly, placing his tiny hands on Adrien's temple. Adrien shuddered at the touch, surprised. Plagg was usually against unnecessary effort, but not quite this much. "You need to stay here and rest."

"This is the last place I want to be," Adrien pouted, still staring past the window as if he were already outside.

"It's not a good idea," continued the spirit. "You'll feel better for a while, but it'll make it worse."

"I don't care."

"But you will. Adrien, please, let's get you in bed, ok? You're sick."

"You're not," Adrien countered, knowing how he could borrow strength and skill from Plagg, use his energy to drown his own pain. How much he wanted that right now. "Plagg –"

"Don't do that!" Plagg squeaked, speaking rapidly, trying to get his message across before Adrien completed his catchphrase for a transformation. "Not to me, not to yourself. It'll catch up to you after; it'll be horrible. You could -."

"Claws out!"

Plagg shrieked again, but had no choice anymore. The Miraculous inhaled the spirit and sprouted dark energy, coating Adrien in powerful black. Mask, ears, tail, gloves and best of all, partial relief. He took an experimental deep breath, delighted that the dizziness was gone, the chill, the ache. His physical discomforts faded, pushed way down from his new senses, heightened hearing, balance, and Adrenaline. Oh, it was good!

Chat Noir made quick work of opening his window, leaping out and perching on his balcony railing. The cold air hit him sharply in the face, and he breathed it in deep. He was free! But where to go?

At first, he just ran without thought, tearing across the rooftops of Paris at a full sprint, leaping across the buildings using his spinning baton to hover him over the longer jumps. Full tilt. Nothing held back. Just wind and speed and numbness. Unconsciously, he pulled to a stop in front of the Dupain-Cheng bakery, cheerily illuminating the night. From his vantage point on a chimney, he could see straight into the family's living room, see his classmate Marinette sandwiched between her parents, each holding a steaming mug and laughing, the light pouring out. Chat felt a hitch in his chest, something heavy piercing into him. They were so happy together. He turned away.

There were others. As he started paying attention, visions hit him at every turn. Chloe sitting with her father enjoying dinner, Alya playing on the floor with her little sisters. Lovers kissing under mistletoe. A father holding his tiny son up to see the lights of their Christmas tree. Everyone smiling. Everyone with someone they loved at their side. But not him.

The injustice of it burned. The loneliness settling in his head and chest just like his illness. But for this pain he couldn't use an ancient incantation. So he moved, trying to outrace it, outdistance it, somehow leave it behind. It wasn't fair! Why did he have to be the only one alone tonight? Didn't he deserve some of what he saw all around him? The sacrifices he made for his father, for all of Paris, would it never come back to him? And the worst, the very worst, was how no one could even see him now. His father didn't know he was missing from his room. The windows he peered in didn't notice the stray Chat just outside. He was invisible from thought and memory.

He caught a spark of anger and blew into it as he ran, cradling it and feeding it until it was full fire rage. And by the time he hit the square in front of the hotel, he could feel nothing but the unpredictable, uncontrolled rush of it. Looking down from the roof, through the falling snowflakes, he saw the Christmas tree, lovingly decorated by Parisians at the Festival of Lights a few days ago on the Solstice. The darkest night. Adrien had wanted to go, but his father had not allowed it. The sight of it now unhinged him. If he couldn't have Christmas, one night where he could feel appreciated and loved, then he wasn't going to let anyone else enjoy it either.

With the help of his baton, he jumped from the roof to the snowy yard by the tree, breathing hard and furious, intent on burning it to the ground.

"Cataclysm!" He shouted, curling his right hand into a fist as dark energy began sparking from it.

Valerie Champlain was watching the snow fall in the courtyard around the Christmas tree, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, teacup in hand. Her eve had been peaceful, but she'd been brought to the window by a familiar tingling of energy. Something bad was about to happen; she knew it. She often had these twinges right before the news broke out of an akuma attack on Paris, a remnant of a memory. When she'd turned on the television, however, the only story revolved around the disappearance of the Agreste boy, Adrien.

Still, she wasn't surprised at all to see Chat Noir on the rooftop of Le Grand Paris Hotel, figuring he could be on scene before anyone even knew they were in danger. She couldn't tell what he was looking at; everything seemed so calm around him. Yet even from her ground floor apartment, she could see the tenseness in him. He was undoubtedly in battle; she just couldn't see with what. She also couldn't see Ladybug anywhere. Whatever Chat was fighting, he was doing it alone.

She startled as he leaped from the roof, squinting as she heard him invoke a cataclysm. Where was his enemy? Where was his teammate? The twinge turned into something urgent. Valerie grabbed her cane and did her best to hurry outside. Something was wrong.

She was on the edge of the yard as Chat Noir stretched out his hand to the enormous Christmas tree, which stopped her short. What was he doing? She opened her mouth to call to him, to stop him, realizing before she said anything that maybe this wasn't the real Chat. Perhaps this was a villain made to look like him. Or maybe he was the real one, but akumatized. She shuddered at how horrible that would be.

But then he stopped, suddenly enough that she wondered if he'd done it himself or if he'd run into something unseen, inches from the branches.

"I can't do it!" She heard him yell in a painful tone of voice, raw and harsh and hateful. He grabbed his own wrist, fighting something in himself, turning his head desperately in a search for what to do with his collected energy now that it was in his hand. In the end, he reached for a kiosk with an advertisement featuring the missing Agreste teenager posted on the side of it. It turned to black ashes and crumbled in pieces in the snow. Valerie stood transfixed and confused. She'd known about the power of the Chat Noir Miraculous, but she'd never seen it this close. What would it do to a person to have that kind of destructive power? Only the brightest souls can carry the darkness, she remembered. That's why she hadn't taken it herself. Maybe this soul hadn't been bright enough?

He had his arms wrapped around himself now, turning away from what he'd done to the kiosk. All his energy and fury had drained from him and he just looked sad and tired. On the verge of giving up. Valerie started moving toward him again, her intentions changed, when his knees hit the snow. His back curled over in defeat and suddenly the blackness of him receded, pulling off of him like someone removing a veil, tucking into the ring on his right hand as if it had never existed. The ring twinkled once and then the kwami of the Miraculous dropped also into the snow, a tiny ball of shivering misery. Valerie gripped her shawl tightly, realizing that she'd just found the missing Agreste boy. He'd been given a Miraculous? He was Chat Noir? It seemed unnaturally cruel. What was the Guardian thinking?

"Plagg!" Valerie caught the name of the spirit as the boy who was Chat Noir called it. He moved about the tiny dark form in distress, shifting Valerie's inspection. The kwami was not moving, all its energy spent, but surely Chat Noir would know that a cataclysm would do that. There shouldn't be a reason to be so upset. Unless something else was wrong.

"What have I done?" Adrien asked himself as the cold and dread and pain hit him all at once after transforming. He knew instantly what Plagg had been trying to warn him against in his room. Even though he couldn't feel his body the same way as Chat, it didn't mean that there weren't consequences. He'd pushed himself far too hard, forcing Plagg to make up the difference to keep him moving. Now his chest and throat were burning; his muscles stabbing with pain at intervals. He could barely see past the dizziness. He could hardly breathe for the cold. And Plagg. The dark kwami lie prone on the snow, twitching, eyes closed. With badly shaking hands, Adrien scooped him up, feeling how limp he was now.

"I'm so sorry, Plagg," he apologized. "I'll make it right."

"Adrien," Plagg sputtered, weary, impossibly concerned, hugging Adrien's thumb as if he were the one in need of reassurance. Why hadn't he listened to him? "We need to find . . . oh, you look awful. We need . . .I don't know where he is, though. I knew this would be bad, and I can't . . can't help you. We need to . . hurry."

Adrien blinked as he tried to piece together what Plagg was trying to say. Who did they need to find? Was the kwami stuttering or was he not focusing right? Everything hurt so much; his head was too fuzzy to think. But he couldn't stay here.

"Boy."

The unexpected voice startled him enough that he had to put one hand down on the ground to keep steady, whimpering a bit when the abrupt motion jolted his bones. He'd never thought that anyone would be out tonight; everyone seemed so cozy with their loved ones. Carefully, he turned to the side and saw a woman standing a few meters from where he knelt. His system flooded with guilt and fear. How long had she been standing there? What had she seen? He made to stand up, to run with Plagg, but without Chat Noir's strength and stamina, he had absolutely no energy left. He winced as he fell hard on his side, cradling the kwami against his chest. Immediately, he went to sit up, to try again to get away, but before he could gather himself enough for a second attempt, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

"Stop," she said, and the sweet, concerned tone of her command made Adrien's eyes sting. He looked up into her face, surprised by the scar that cut its way down the left side of it, forehead, eye, cheek and chin. The eye was blind, milky white and filmed. She looked as though she normally wore her dark hair so that it covered the disfigurement as much as possible, but the winter wind was blowing it out of her face now. The hand that held the cane was missing two fingers, the others curled into a claw. Adrien could tell that once she had been beautiful; she was still lovely in a sad way, but whatever had damaged her face had taken part of her soul with it.

"Come on," she encouraged, still gentle, watching him stare at her mutilation without embarrassment.

"Did you see?" Adrien rasped, transfixed and frightened. Not of her but of what she might have just witnessed. Plagg was still curled up in his hands, hidden from view but he wouldn't be if Adrien tried to stand up again. The stranger looked around her, checking to make sure they were alone, then studied him, as if making a decision whether to lie to him or not.

"Yes," she finally said, sorrowfully.

Adrien felt panic squeeze his already tight lungs. She'd seen him. Seen what he'd done. Seen who he was! He awkwardly pushed off his knees, keeping Plagg curled in one hand, at last coming to his feet, standing hunched in front of her, panting and shaky.

"Hold on," she pacified, reaching out with one hand as if she could stop him from leaving. "I'm very good at keeping secrets." He barely heard her since he was so focused on the black swarming on the sides of his vision, a result of standing up. He pressed the hand that wasn't holding Plagg against his temple, trying to ground himself enough to move.

"What's wrong?" He heard her asking, sort of, as if she were talking to him from underwater. "Boy?" He lifted his eyes to her face again, trying to focus on what she was saying, focusing harder on not losing his balance and toppling into the snow. "Oh, I see." Now he was sure he wasn't hearing her correctly. See what?

"I need to go," he told her, shakily. "I need to . . find someone."

"Dressed like that? Sick as you are? No, child. Your mother would kill me."

"My . . . mother?"

She balanced the cane against her hip and pulled her shawl from her shoulders. Before Adrien could muster the strength to do anything else, she'd thrown it around him, drawing the corners together at his chest. "You poor thing," she said, and he felt his lips tremble. "I'm going to help you."

The sudden warmth of the shawl and the unexpected assistance made his throat catch, sent a tremor through his body. He bit the inside of his cheek, the stinging sensation back in his eyes. He'd been prepared for anything except this – for someone to see him, actually see him, and want to help him. It surprised him how much the kindness hurt.

"Can you walk?" She asked him, forcing her cane into her ruined hand again. He wasn't actually sure if he could. He felt loosely put together at his joints, like if he took a step the base of his backbone would snap in two. But he had to go home, had to start moving somehow, had to help Plagg. She looped her good arm through his, allowing him to keep his hands clasped around his kwami. His instincts were still telling him to leave, but now that she'd seen him for what he was, would there be a point? How was he supposed to fix this? He felt a hand against his cheek, warm and comforting. He leaned into it without realizing. "What have you done to yourself?" the strange woman mused quietly, but he didn't know what she meant. He closed his eyes, focusing on her touch on his face. His heart twisted in a new confusing ache.

"What made you do this? Here, lean on me, we'll use the cane together. It's just a few steps." Valerie pulled on Gabriel's son, intentionally keeping her voice light, wishing she had more strength. Before, it would have been nothing to lift him in her arms, but now she would need him to move on his own. He was trembling with exertion and fever and pain; she wasn't sure he was even listening to her, but he had to. If he was in this sort of shape before transforming, then it was no wonder he held on to his lifeless kwami like that. The spirit's effort to allow him to perform the way he had a few moments ago. There would be consequences, damage. But how much?

He took a step, at last, and she took a breath of relief. "That's it, son," she encouraged, guiding him gently and carefully across the slippery courtyard to where she'd left her apartment door open to the cold in her haste to get to him before he destroyed the tree. He leaned in to her, staggering, and she leaned heavily on the cane. He took a hitching breath, and she saw tears mixed with the fever gleam in his eyes. The boy was as shattered as the destroyed kiosk, more than from illness. Something had pushed him away from his house, into the snow, something that prompted him to escape despite what his body was capable of.

And he was just this side of breaking point, teetering on the brink. If Valerie sat him at her table, treated him like a stranger, like a runaway teenager. If she called his father, sent him home, he would swallow his sorrow, push it down deep as he'd likely done many times over again. Because that was the world he lived in. She could do that; he might prefer that in a way. He didn't know her.

But then she thought of the cataclysm, the wrath in his body, the despair when it broke. She thought of another Miraculous wielder in pain, how it could twist, how sorrow compressed turned hard and cold. How bright souls carrying blackness could have their lights blown out. Something that shouldn't happen to any child, much less a superhero. Maybe it would be better for him to break, for Paris' sake, for Emlie's, for his own future. But could he be restored again after?

They reached her door, closing it to the night. She sat the teenager down on her sofa, standing beside him with her hand at the base of his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured to the floor, slumping over. "I just need . . . I just need a minute and I'll leave you."

She ran her hand through his hair, watching earnestly as it made him wince. He did not shy away from physical contact, quite the opposite, but it was rather obvious that it was not something he was used to.

"Not by yourself. You can barely walk and you have no coat. If you want to leave now, we can call your father. You're Gabriel Agreste's son, Adrien, right?" He looked up at her horrified.

"Don't tell him! Please," he whimpered. "He'll think you . . . he'll think." There were tears in his voice as well as his eyes now. She shifted her hand from his neck to his shoulder. Why was he so upset?

"Calm down, Adrien. When you're ready, I'll take you home. But first, will you let me see Plagg?"

"I don't know what you're . . . ?"

"The kwami of your Miraculous. You're worried about him."

"How do you?"

"I just want to help. Please." Weak and confused, Adrien opened his hands, revealing the black kwami. Valerie took him into her hand carefully, prodding his tiny eyes open with her fingertip, hearing him moan softly at her attentions. "Oh, Plagg."

"What?" Adrien asked, his pitch raising.

"Val . . . Valerie?" Plagg groaned, shocked. "Thank goodness."

"What?!" Adrien asked again, looking between her and Plagg. Valerie held her hand out to him soothingly.

"He's very far gone," Valerie said, more to herself than anyone. "This is beyond me."

"What do you mean?" Adrien asked, getting panicky again, pushing himself up from the sofa to come to her side, but not getting very far before falling back, his head in his hands . "He's not going to die, is he? Do they do that? Can they?"

"Don't try to get up, please. I don't think he's beyond saving. I'm a little more worried about you, actually."

"Please," Adrien gasped. "Who are you? Why do you two know each other?"

"We don't know each other exactly. We only met a few times before it was decided that I was not strong enough to bear him. I was chosen by another." As she confessed this, her deepest secret, she took Plagg to her table, trying to tempt him with a piece of fruit. He licked it, shuddered, and went still again.

"What?" Adrien yelped, the effort making him woozy. She returned to his side, where he held his head in his hands, pushing him deeper into the sofa. "You have a Miraculous?"

"That was a long time ago," she said with regret. "And she is no longer mine. Take it easy."

"Which one?" Adrien pressed, his eyes fluttering at the strain of keeping his attention focused and sitting up. "Were you . . . Are you Ladybug?"

"Lie down, Adrien, you just lost all the color in your face. I'm not and never was Ladybug."

"What should we do for Plagg? How do we help him?"

"We wait. Help is on the way to us."

"But," his voice was lost and confused. She wondered how much of her story she was now obligated to tell. Instead of explaining, she removed his shoes for him, surprised at his lack of protest at her ministrations, covering him with the blanket she kept on the back of the couch. He propped himself up on his elbow, staring at her, trying to process all that was happening to him while fighting delirium. She placed Plagg gently on the cushion next to Adrien, knowing he would rest easier next to him.

"Rest," she commanded, wincing slightly as she knelt on the floor beside them. "She's coming."

"Who?" He murmured, struggling to focus, completely wretched.

"Ladybug is looking for you. She'll find us soon and bring us help for your kwami."

"No one is looking for me," he told her miserably. "Especially not her."

"That's not true," she assured, feeling her heart twist at what he'd said. Like he truly believed no one would bother, no one would notice he was gone. Obviously, he hadn't seen the news, didn't know that practically the entire city had disrupted their holiday in order to find him. If she didn't think it would be too much shock all at once for him, she would have turned on the television to prove to him just how many people cared for his safe return. She decided to let Ladybug handle this particular conversation when she came; it would mean more coming from her anyway.

"I'm sorry," Adrien repeated. "Plagg – you tried to warn me. I'm so sorry."

She brushed back his hair with her good hand, feeling pricked with concern as she noted the fever heat on him. Was he getting worse? Maybe they shouldn't wait. "He should be taking better care of you." Adrien choked when she said it, and she realized he was misunderstanding her. He thought she was talking about his care of Plagg. She was actually talking about his father. "You deserve better, Adrien." This time the sob was unmistakable, though the golden head under her hand twisted to hide in the cushion. Plagg reached out a hand to his Chosen. She imagined no one had ever told him this; no one had validated feelings he likely tried to deny himself. Her saying it out loud, giving it credit, dissolved the wall he'd put up around that particular hurt. As she'd intended.

Neither kwami nor woman made any attempt to hush him as he cried. His face hidden, his body clenched tight. Valerie rubbed his back but did not make any sound. This was what he truly needed, this release. Sometimes wounds needed to be lanced before they were bandaged. She kissed his head above his ear. He looked so much like Emilie.

He cried until his strength at last gave out, and even after he'd fallen asleep, his shoulders twitched, his hands clenching and unclenching, his rest disturbed by cries of pain. Plagg curled close, trying to find a comfortable spot and remain in physical contact with Adrien, but he was making that tricky with his constant tossing. Valerie did what she could, but she knew what she needed most would be in the courtyard soon. She took her shawl and flung it again around her neck before stepping back outside.

Ladybug didn't keep her waiting long, flying down near the tree on her yo-yo string, her face fierce and confident and worried. Valerie smiled at her youth and vibrancy, relieved that she was here.

"Ladybug!" She hailed her, lifting her cane, drawing her attention from the shattered kiosk.

"What is it?" The heroine rushed her, taking her gently by the elbows and peering intensely into her face. "What happened here? Are you all right?"

"Yes, but I need your help. I need you to bring Master Fu here as soon as you can."

"Master? How do you know about – what happened? Where's Chat Noir?"

"Never mind how I know. But Chat Noir's kwami needs Master Fu. I hope you know how to contact him."

"But I'm looking for someone – a boy, blonde, green eyes. His name is Adrien, and he's been missing for hours now."

"I know who you mean, it's all over the news, but Chat Noir needs you more right now." Ladybug's blue eyes widened at the statement, not truly believing that anything could be more important than the quest she was already on.

"What happened to him?" She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"He's very sick, and the kwami is fading. He needs your help," Valerie stressed again, putting special emphasis on each word. "Will you give it?"

Ladybug looked torn, uncertain about Valerie's assertion that Chat Noir could need her more than Adrien did at this moment. If only Valerie could tell her that there was no longer a need to look for either of them. Putting a hand to her lips, Ladybug looked around her again at the broken kiosk.

"Sick?" She repeated, as if the very idea were completely impossible. "How do I know this isn't a trap?" Ladybug asked quietly, obviously not wanting to voice her concern. "Why don't I take the kwami with me to Master Fu?"

"I don't want to move him more than necessary," Valerie answered. "But if you need something more than my word, we can waste time and you can see him for yourself."

"I think I do need that," she said, a little coldly. "Let's waste a minute. Where is Chat Noir?" Valerie closed her eyes, leaning a bit on the cane. Of course she wouldn't trust her. How many times had Chat already been used as bait to trap her. Not only that, Valerie knew what she looked like at this point in her life. Like a crone. Like a villain.

"Come with me, if you must, then," she offered. She led the way to the apartment, stopping at the door. Ladybug tensed, her yo-yo ready in her palm for an ambush. Her reflexes were good, but her instinct needed tuning. But she was still so young.

"His claws are in," Valerie told her, knowing that she would understand what this meant. "I know this can't sound more suspicious, but I also know you understand that your identities must be secret. If you want to go in there, you'll have to consent to a blindfold." Ladybug consulted the barrier of the door, then looked long and hard at Valerie.

"He's really in trouble this time, isn't he?" She asked with something like regret in her voice.

"Yes," Valerie responded, feeling rather at a loss that there was no way to ease this truth. Ladybug put her hand on the door, her muscles relaxed, the fight gone out of her.

"Chat," she whispered to the wood; Valerie barely heard her. Then she straightened, her gaze calm and ready.

"I'll keep my eyes closed," she promised with such sincerity that Valerie believed her.

"Very well," she acquiesced. Ladybug closed her eyes, and Valerie pulled her into the apartment where the air felt close and warm. Though she couldn't see, Ladybug could smell rosemary and sage as well as cinnamon. Soothing scents.

"Where – where did you go?" His voice, low to the floor. He must be sitting or lying down. In her mind's eye, she saw him lifting himself onto one elbow in something like a lounge, but the strain of the voice deflated it a little. It sounded sort of like Chat, but drained, as if a voice could lose all its color. "Ladybug?" A tenseness at her name, and scrambling as he suddenly realized that she was here, that she was going to see him for who he was in his regular life. She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed against the temptation of doing exactly that.

"I'm here," she told him, as if he was the one with his eyes closed. "I'm not going to look at you."

"Easy, Chat Noir," the woman comforted, and the sounds ceased. "She knows she has to keep her eyes closed. She wanted to check on you to make sure I'm telling her the truth." It sounded like Chat was no longer moving, but he was still breathing heavily. Whatever he'd just tried to do had obviously taken a lot of physical effort on his part. Ladybug followed the sounds, worried now, putting out her hand, inching forward until Valerie took it, easing her the rest of the way.

"Kneel down," she instructed and Ladybug folded immediately, tucking her head to her chest, keeping her eyelids squeezed shut. She reached out, as she'd done many times before, with the expectation that her partner would reach back. His fingers found their familiar holds on her forearm, but the grip was unsteady, the hand trembling. She grasped him tight for a moment before inching her way up his arms to his chest. He also shifted his hand until it curved gently around her bicep, like a child holding on to his favorite blanket. She could feel the unnatural rhythm of his breathing under her palm, the intense heat, the hard and fast pound of his heart. She maneuvered her hands carefully and sightlessly up to his shoulders, around the back of his neck, he was shivering everywhere, tucking her palm against his jawline, noting the lack of mask, inspecting him as much as she dared with her sense of touch, giving herself a complete picture of where he was in front of her. He was so hot. As she brushed his cheekbone with her thumb, flakes of salt came off. Tears?

"Chat Noir," she heard herself whisper, worried as much for him now as she was for Adrien, maybe more. "What happened to you? How long have you been like this? Why didn't you call for me?"

"I'm sorry," Chat apologized, his voice trembling as much as his shoulders. That wasn't anywhere close to an answer, but Ladybug figured it was probably all she was going to get.

"That's not like you," she said, wondering what she should be saying. She put her hand on his forehead, using her touch there as a guide to kiss him lightly. Again, he shuddered, and she made a distressed sound in the back of her throat. "You're so hot."

"What are you doing out?" Chat asked, worried, deliberately changing the subject. "Why aren't you home with your family?"

"I was looking for Adrien Agreste," Ladybug answered truthfully, not missing the new twinge under her fingers. Had she done something wrong? What was hurting him so much he couldn't seem to be still? "Isn't that what you were doing?"

"Looking for- why?"

"He's missing, that's why. You didn't know? All of Paris is looking for him. We're worried he might have been kidnapped. But Chat, if that's not what you were up to, then . . . what were you doing? The cataclysm outside – I don't understand."

"I . .. I made a mistake," his voice was so breathless now that she decided not to press him. Whatever had brought him away from his own family into the night, without knowing about Adrien, must be too important a secret for her to need it from him. It didn't matter all that much. The point was that he was in this strange woman's house, sick and weak and needing her help. Her head was starting to hurt at the effort of keeping her eyes closed. She stood from the floor, keeping her hand in Chat's.

"I'm going to get someone who can heal your kwami," she explained as his fingers tightened around hers, not wanting her to go. Admittedly, she didn't want to go either. She wanted to take Chat Noir's head in her lap as if he really were a kitten and just hold him until he felt better. She wanted to ask again why he hadn't called for her help. But the woman had been right. She was wasting time; time she could be using to help her friend. "Then we're taking you to the hospital."

"But . . . but what about Adrien?" Chat challenged, and she smiled at him softly.

"Adrien is important to me," she confessed, noting how Chat's hand clenched around hers as she said it. "But like I said, all of Paris is out looking for him. Right now, I need to take care of my partner." She lifted her head for Valerie, speaking to her without being able to see where she was. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you. Help me outside?"

Chat brought her hand to his lips in his customary gesture even though it was tainted slightly by how hard he was trembling.

"Thank you, my lady," he said, so genuine and pure and hurt that Ladybug's throat tightened. She bent over him, resting her forehead against his for a second.

"I'll be quick as I can," she promised before letting go. She was on her own only a moment before the woman who she was going to trust to look after her teammate took her by the hands and led her back to the cold of Christmas Eve. When she heard the door close, Ladybug opened her eyes to consider again the woman who now knew who Chat Noir truly was.

"Did you see what happened?" She questioned her, hoping to get something more than what Chat had told her. "Who he was fighting?"

"He's still fighting, Ladybug," she answered vaguely. "Though it will help to know that you chose him first."

"Will it help him to heal his kwami?" She asked, unsure. It didn't seem that it would work that way.

"No." Was the flat answer, but after a moment's pause, she continued. "He used the kwami as a shield, borrowing his power, likely to do something he was too sick already to do. He's pushed himself too hard, and his kwami too hard. They were together when the damage was done, but they'll have to heal separately, I'm afraid."

"But he didn't tell you why? What would make him do that to himself?"

"He hasn't said. I haven't felt it my place to ask."

"Maybe when I come back you can tell me why you know so much about it?" Ladybug gave in to her curiosity to put the possibility out there. "Kwamis and Master Fu? They're supposed to be secrets and even Chat Noir doesn't know about Master Fu, so I know he couldn't have said anything about him." After all, she was trusting her with everything right now. Would it really be so inconsiderate to ask for a small return gesture of information?

"I believe that conversation is inevitable at this point." She didn't sound happy about it, but she did sound resigned. Ladybug decided to leave it at that.

"Please keep him safe," she heard herself ask this ruined woman with one eye and wrecked hand. The woman who knew more about her partner than she did now. "I'll hurry."

"I promise."

Ladybug nodded to her, releasing her yo-yo into the night. It caught on something a quarter mile away and pulled her instantly from the courtyard on her way to the Guardian's home.

Valerie let her go, returning to minister to Adrien, shivering on the couch, face flushed and breathing too fast.

"Did you hear her, Plagg?" He was saying to his kwami. "She's going to help you." There was a spark in his voice now, though she'd already seen it while he was talking to her. "She did come." He was completely smitten, the reckless kind. Valerie rubbed the stumps of her missing fingers, worried. People that in love make silly choices, are too willing to sacrifice themselves. And Ladybug – had she even noticed? Was she worthy of his affection?

Possibly. There had been true concern in her voice and on her face as she'd knelt beside him. His condition obviously bothered her, and maybe shown her a future where he might not be with her always. The idea that she might have taken him for granted had surely crossed her mind. The good news here, however, was that her partner was still in a place where he might be saved. Unlike Valerie's.

"Hang in there, Plagg," Adrien continued murmuring encouragement to his kwami, even as his head dropped back onto the sofa cushion in exhaustion. "She's so fast. She'll . . . she'll be right back."

Valerie went to her kitchen, just a few steps away in the small apartment, to wet a cold cloth for the back of Adrien's neck. Master Fu could restore the kwami easily; she knew this. But Adrien's recovery would not be so simple. Ladybug had mentioned taking him to the hospital. Maybe that would be the best choice.

He startled alarmingly when she came back in view, cloth in hand, as if he'd forgotten she were there even though she'd only been gone a few moments. "Hide," he hissed to Plagg. "She'll see you." Plagg lifted his head slightly, cracking open an eye to see what Adrien was talking about. When all he saw was Valerie, he did a sort of double take before letting himself go limp again. "Plagg, what's wrong?" Adrien asked him, awkwardly pulling a cushion over him, tent-like, to obscure him from sight.

"Adrien?" Valerie tested him, confused and worried, wondering what had changed in the past minute. He squinted at her, his face suddenly penitent.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, reaching for her. She went to his side, forcing her stiff left leg to bow enough to let her onto the floor near him, ready to console him about whatever he thought he needed to be sorry for, hoping his temporary loss of lucidity was over now, hoping Ladybug would hurry so she could get Adrien better help. She just had to give Master Fu enough time to stabilize Plagg first. She placed the cloth as intended on his neck as he cupped the side of her face with one trembling hand. "Was I too late?" He traced the scar, lightly running his fingers down her cheek, eyelids fluttering as he fought to stay awake. She let the cloth go to stop his touch. No one had ever done that before. She wasn't sure how she felt about someone tracing her injury. "I let you get hurt," he said remorsefully. "I wasn't there for you."

She felt a tear slip from her sightless eye, dropping onto his hand, surprising her. She knew he had no real idea of what he was saying now. He was getting worse; his temperature way too high. But even as he was not really speaking to her, she was hearing his words from someone else. A voice from a memory that she'd almost forgotten. This time, she did shush him. "You're here now," she told him, keeping his hand away from her face, pressing the cloth to his neck. "We're safe."

"Ladybug will fix it," he continued as if she hadn't said anything, his eyes closing despite his obvious struggle to keep them open. He was slipping under.

"I'm sure," she encouraged again, scooping up Plagg from under the pillow, afraid of what Adrien might do to him accidentally now that he was so out of it. Afraid of his deteriorating condition. She relocated the spirit to where she'd left her shawl on the table, making him a little nest and tucking him into it, making sure the grape she'd offered him earlier was within easy reach.

"Valerie," the dark spirit said faintly as she covered him with wool. "Don't wait anymore. He needs . . . he's so sick, Valerie. I'll wait here for Ladybug. Leave the ring and get him some help."

"I can't leave you, Plagg," Valerie denied, thinking how horrible it would be to take Adrien's Miraculous, leave it on the table next to the kwami, alone and unprotected. "Ladybug will be back soon."

"We're going to lose him if you wait that long."

"What do you mean?" She checked, worried.

"I've seen it before. I don't know what they call it now –"

"Calm down, Plagg."

"No! Trixx lost a Chosen this way. It's a blood poison. She died just hours after she started talking like Adrien is right now. Please!" Plagg put his head down after his outburst, too weak to continue. Valerie looked over at Adrien, watching his chest rise and fall, too quickly, and she knew Plagg was right. He was talking about sepsis, and if that really were the case, Adrien couldn't wait for Ladybug. They may have already wasted too much time. But she couldn't leave Plagg alone either.

She dismissed calling Gabriel to come retrieve his son. She didn't want him to know where she was and didn't think that she could bring herself to speak to him even under the circumstances. Besides, an ambulance would be faster anyway. She went to her phone, quickly dialing emergency services.

"I've found Adrien Agreste," she told the dispatcher. "Please send an ambulance." They asked very few questions, assuring her that they were on their way and would arrive in less than ten minutes. She asked them to hurry.

"They're coming," she assured Plagg.

"Thank you," he whispered, spent.

She pushed herself to her feet, looking down on the kwami. The green of his eyes disappeared as he closed them, falling limply into the shawl. She left his side to return to Adrien's, who was shivering in his sleep. How had she missed it? She should have gotten him help as soon as he'd arrived, but she'd thought the kwami needed it more. How could she have risked him that way? Ashamed and frightened, she perched on the sofa near his knees, stretching her left leg out in front of her. She took his hand in hers and monitored his face. He was so quiet now. She wondered if he would stir if she shook him; she was too afraid that he wouldn't to even try.

As sirens drew close to her apartment, Valerie slipped Adrien's ring from his finger and onto hers, closing her eyes as the weight of what she'd just done settled on her. It's just to keep them safe; only until he's well again. She glanced at her shawl on the table, confirming that no one would notice Plagg tangled there, then she opened her door to the paramedics as they brought a backboard into her tiny apartment and suddenly her entire space was filled with uniforms and unfamiliar equipment. She gave her name but asked them not to give it to anyone else. She explained that she'd found Adrien alone, wandering outside, confused and fevered. She put his shoes in a bag for them to take with them. They strapped him securely to their carrier, and he made no sound of protest or question. He was already in a place far away from his body. Why had she waited so long?

"Is he going to be all right?" Valerie asked the medic with the clipboard as he scribbled down vitals.

"Can't tell yet," he told her, seriously. Valerie clenched her hand at her throat as she watched an oxygen mask fitted over his face.

"Will you be riding with him?" Someone else asked her as they made ready to lift him into the ambulance. Valerie closed her broken hand around the ring. She could not leave Plagg here. She could not make that mistake again.

"No," she answered, hating that Adrien would be going alone. "I'll stay here and contact his father."

"Thanks for the call," they said and disappeared with Adrien outside. She heard the doors close tight around him and then the sirens dissipated into the snowy night. After they had gone, darkness and cold settled into her house. She almost fell sitting down at her table, hands tight against her chest, the ring burning her.

"You . . . you didn't go with him?" Plagg's voice at her elbow, looking up at her again from his shawl bed. She couldn't tell if he were angry about it or not.

"I couldn't," she defended, surprised again to find tears on her cheeks. "He won't be alone, but you would."

"I tried to tell him," Plagg murmured sorrowfully. "I knew it would be bad."

"I need to tell his father," Valerie said, wishing that weren't true. How many years had it been since she'd spoken with him? Would he remember her? Hopefully not. Her hands were shaking as she dialed the number she found on his website. Maybe no one would pick up. Maybe everyone was still away looking for Adrien. Maybe she wouldn't have to actually speak to him.

"Yes?" A female voice, clipped and professional, not Emilie. Definitely not Gabriel. Valerie crumpled at the table in relief. Plagg looked up at her questioningly.

"Could you please tell Mr. Agreste that his son is in route to St. Simons Hospital? He should meet him there."

"Adrien?" The professional clip dropped into something like terror. "Is he all right? Who is this?"

"He'll need his father with him," Valerie said instead of answering, then hung up quickly while the woman on the other end continued with rapid-fire questions. She was partially comforted. Whomever that was on the phone cared for Adrien; she could tell by the voice. She felt better about her choice to stay with Plagg.

She rested her head on her crossed arms then, feeling the Miraculous press against her cheek as she laid on it. One of her fingers extended toward the kwami, close but not touching him. He curled his tail around her fingertip.

"Valerie?" Plagg asked, so quiet.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad it was you."

She wasn't sure how to answer that, so she didn't try. She was surprised for the second time that night that there were tears on her face. Why cry now, she asked herself. What's the point of it? But maybe she had a little of Adrien in her, the part that didn't grieve properly at the right time. She hoped he'd be ok.

For thirty more minutes, Valerie and Plagg sat together at the table, listening to the news in the background celebrating that Adrien had been found. She registered that the hospital had honored her wishes to remain anonymous. There was no mention of where he'd been found or by whom. Gabriel's voice came on, filling her with chilled dread, as he thanked Paris for their efforts in locating his son and asking that he now be allowed to recover quietly, no visitors for the moment. The program had moved on to the weather when a scarlet clad storm crashed into Valerie's house.

Jerking upright, Valerie watched as Ladybug flew unerringly to where she'd left Chat Noir on the couch, her eyes still tightly closed so she wouldn't endanger his identity. Stiffly, Valerie got to her feet, opening her mouth as Ladybug's hands wildly searched the area for the missing boy.

"Where is he?" Ladybug asked, her pitch frantic, bowing over the empty space.

"He's not here, Ladybug," Valerie told her gently just as Master Fu also entered her apartment, much more calmly. Valerie unconsciously tried to stand straighter at the sight of him. Bright blue eyes zeroed in on her fiercely.

"What happened? Where did he go?" She demanded, her trust broken. Valerie had promised to keep him safe, but Ladybug didn't know that she'd had to send him away to save him.

"You?" Master Fu broke in, blinking at her.

"He rested here for a while, but he had to return to his family. I'm sorry," she lied. "The kwami is here, though." She picked up Plagg, shawl and all, in both hands, extending him toward Master Fu, who was still staring at her face. Suddenly self-conscious, she tipped her head down, allowing her hair to shield her scar, holding out Plagg as a distraction and offering. She hadn't lost this one.

"You've been here? This whole time?" Master Fu asked, his tone difficult to decipher, but Valerie detected shame. "I thought –"

"Please," Valerie interrupted. She knew what he thought. The same that everyone who had once known her thought. That she was dead. Gabriel had seen to that, and at the time she had been grateful to him for it. "He needs help."

Shaking himself slightly, Master Fu at last accepted Plagg. He took a moment to inspect him much as Valerie had done, checking him over visually, rubbing his fingers over him gently.

"I tried to tell him, Master," Plagg admitted.

"Chosen can be headstrong," Fu placated, giving Valerie a sidelong look. "Some more than others." She bowed her head. "It's actually an admirable quality for a superhero."

"He just left him here?" Ladybug squeaked, making Valerie wonder how many more lies she would have to tell tonight in order to keep her from finding out who Chat Noir was.

"He didn't want to," she answered, truthfully, as she watched Fu arrange his tools and Plagg on her table.

"Where did he go? He wasn't in any shape to leave. I thought you were going to take care of him."

"Ladybug," Plagg called her, and her eyes doubled as she realized Chat Noir's kwami was talking to her.

"Um, yes?" She responded, suddenly calm, staring at the tiny black cat.

"Don't blame her; they did what I told them to do. And stop asking questions!"

Ladybug lowered her gaze to the floor, properly scolded. Valerie's heart went out to her.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Ladybug," Fu told her as she stood there, out of place, a heroine not knowing what to do to help anymore. "I'll be able to get home on my own. You should return to your family."

"Are you sure?" Ladybug returned. "There isn't anything I can do to help?"

"You've done enough. It's Christmas Eve. Please, go on now."

Valerie put on a smile for her, trying to be reassuring, but when their eyes met they both could feel how unsatisfactory this evening had been. Adrien had been found, but not by Ladybug. His future was uncertain to Valerie and completely unknown to his teammate. It didn't feel as though it should be over. The dismissal had something bitter about it.

"I hope you'll visit me again," Valerie offered. "In better circumstances."

Hesitantly, looking back to the couch where she'd last left Chat, then at the table where Master Fu bent over his kwami, then back to Valerie, Ladybug at last turned toward the door.

"Thank you, Ladybug," Master Fu bowed to her as she left.

"Sure," she said, uncertainly, and disappeared outside.

The door closed behind her and suddenly Wayzz jumped out of Fu's coat, buzzing animatedly around Valerie's head. "You're alive!" He squeaked jubilantly.

"I'm happy to find Valerie here, too, but we have work to do just now. Explanations can wait until we're finished," Fu interrupted with authority. Wayzz settled down, coming to sit next to Plagg on the table, watching as his master prepared the ritual that would cleanse him of Adrien's illness and restore his strength.

"Find some cheese," Wayzz instructed Valerie.